


Ghost of You

by Miss_Murdered



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Supernatural Elements, implied rinharu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-13 23:21:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2169132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Murdered/pseuds/Miss_Murdered
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Your first love fucks you over forever. Or something. Sousuke isn’t sure. But he’s not over Makoto Tachibana. And he’s not sure he wants to be.</i>
</p><p>On the anniversary of Makoto's death, Sousuke visits the place that claimed him - the ocean.</p><p>Third and final chapter added.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for heavy angst (I'm hoping this is poignant?!) and Makoto is dead so this is not for the faint of heart. Title taken from a My Chemical Romance song. And I'm sorry...

He takes the train. The ride always seems too long and too short at the same time and Sousuke stretches out his long legs, watches the world pass through the glass, glances over to see the little girl opposite. He gives her a smile. She gives one back. He returns to looking out of the window.

It’s a year since he’s been back to Iwatobi. And he knows it won’t have changed. Never seems to even as time passes. When the train arrives, Sousuke shoves his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans and takes his time walking around the town.

His phone buzzes a few times. Always does on this day. Everyone always wonders…wonders if he’s okay. And Sousuke ignores all those buzzes. As he never is. But that doesn’t matter. He survives. He lives on. He tries. But he doesn’t get over it.

He walks to the ocean, always knowing it’s his destination and it’s already getting dark when he arrives. He planned it like that, booked his ticket so it was drawing into evening when he’d arrive so he could sit on the sand and watch the waves and watch the world turn black. And he takes a deep breath, takes his shoes off so he can dig his feet into the cool sand and then walks down towards the blue rolling waves.

It feels fresh, colder now, September, and Sousuke stops, drops his shoes and sits on the sand feeling the breeze ruffle his dark hair in his eyes. He would shiver but somehow he finds that cold comforting and he’s wearing the blue thick hoodie he’s had for years. Too many years. And he remembers how Makoto used to wear it and that’s why he’s wearing it now. It’s too long for any smell of him to be still on it, for even the memory of his skin to be hidden in the fabric but still Sousuke wears it, buries his nose in it and imagines how Makoto smelt. How he used to smell.

He was afraid of the ocean. Sousuke knew that. But he loved it too, had some curious fascination with it and he guessed it was perhaps ironic it was what took him. What took Makoto away. From Sousuke. From his parents. From the twins. From his friends. What claimed his life.

Sousuke doesn’t cry anymore. Its three years. And he hates that three years have already gone – three years further away from when they were together, when Makoto turned around and smiled at him, when he patted Haru on the back, when Nagisa hugged him, when he nodded at Rei, when he gave Rin those looks… And each passing year is meant to make it easier, Sousuke was told, but it doesn’t. Only makes it seem more impossible to get over him.

Your first love fucks you over forever. Or something. Sousuke isn’t sure. But he’s not over Makoto Tachibana. And he’s not sure he wants to be.

The night draws in and Sousuke digs his fingers deep into the sand and looks up to the stars. He knows he could go somewhere else to remember him – know that the Tachibana family will be – but Sousuke only needs the soft lap of the ocean, the stars, and the sand between his fingertips. And the blade hidden in his pocket, small, as he needs it. Needs it for when the beach is completely deserted and Sousuke can walk towards the waves.

He doesn’t track the time, only thinks about Makoto – thinks about all those small things, all those things that he misses – the crinkle in the corner of his eyes, the smell of his sweat, the feel of his muscles under his skin, the way his breath hitched – and he loses himself in memories, like he always does, on the anniversary. Loses himself to Makoto. Like he did when he was younger – thinking that swimming was all that mattered. And Makoto showed him it wasn’t true with one kiss.

Lost from the beginning.

It grows later and Sousuke stands then, leaves his shoes and walks towards the water, rolling up his jeans so he can feel the waves lap around his ankles. He draws out the blade, lifts his hand and draws a line across his palm. Clenching his hand into a fist, he lets blood fall into the ocean, in ceremony, in memory, in _something_ Sousuke doesn’t understand and he whispers low.

“Miss you.”

And he walks back, bleeding and cold, pulls the hoodie tight, sits on the sand and then lies down, stares at the stars until he falls asleep, the sound of the sea guiding him into dreamless oblivion.

When Sousuke wakes he’s there. He doesn’t understand. Never did. The first time was an accident. Cut himself on some shell, blood from his foot, and it was some time later he was there. This time he expects it but it doesn’t make it less shocking when Makoto is straddling him, when Makoto is above him, when Makoto is _there._

“Makoto,” he breathes and the nod is an answer.

He’s eighteen. Always eighteen. Sousuke wonders if he’ll do this in twenty years and he’ll be in his forties and Makoto will be perfect, immortal, stalled at the peak of his physical prowess. Probably. But Sousuke doesn’t question this. Not anymore. The first time he did. Researched. Hours spent on the internet. He visited spiritual men and superstitious women and everyone in between and he had no answer. Now he doesn’t care. He just wants this time. Short and imperfect. But he has Makoto. And that is all that matters.

None of his friends know. He doesn’t tell Makoto’s family. It is his secret and he holds it tight. Just as he reaches up, pulls Makoto down, feels the slick wet hair, soft still and they kiss. It tastes of salt, it tastes of the ocean and the waves and Sousuke closes his eyes, runs his fingers along Makoto’s toned back, leaves his hand splayed across the dip at the bottom. He’s in his leg skins. Those ones with the green stripes. And nothing else and his skin is clammy and cold and damp but it’s Makoto and Sousuke doesn’t care. Never will care. As on the sand, underneath moonlight and starlight, he has him back.

His heart swells at each touch, each caress and he remember Makoto’s body with his eyes closed, the braille of each tendon, muscle, ridge of bone and Sousuke kisses and remembers being young and in love. He’s still in love now. Just not as young. Older somehow, older since losing Makoto.

They make love on the sand and it’s cold and hot. Sousuke feels everything, each nip of teeth and touch of mouths to skin, listens to every small noise that leaves Makoto’s lips, hears his name said like it is a curse and he holds tight onto Makoto’s hand, entwines their fingers, never wants to let go. Never again. But he will let go and Makoto will be gone and Sousuke will return to Tokyo and to his apartment with the medals on the wall and the posters from his magazine covers and he’ll feel nothing. But right now he feels everything.

Climax is sweet, followed by tender kisses over jaws and cheeks and lips and neck, and Sousuke lies on the sand, Makoto on his chest and he wraps the hoodie around them both.

“I love you,” Sousuke says, his voice raw.

“I know.”

The words are soft and Sousuke falls asleep, running his fingers through Makoto’s hair, and when he wakes up, he’s alone again, the hoodie covering him and he blinks, blurry eyed as he hears dogs bark and the sun is too damn bright. And Makoto is gone.

Sousuke gets up, adjusts his clothes and dusts off the sand. He looks at his hand and sees the blood now staining it and the line that joins the others. Each year he’ll have a cut – the blood he offers to the ocean for some time with his dead lover. And those marks will live with him when Makoto cannot.

He puts his shoes on, pull his hoodie tight and walks up the beach, walks back through Iwatobi. He checks his phone. Sees the messages. From Rin. And he walks to the home that he shares with Haru and he tries not to feel sick thinking of how they have each other. As right now he needs somewhere and Rin’s door will always be open. And he’ll always understand.

Arriving at Haru and Rin’s home, Rin opens the door, his hair sleep mussed but unsurprised and he lets Sousuke in without question. He can smell breakfast cooking and Rin inclines his head.

“You can wash up.”

He nods and walks to the bathroom, hears the muffled voices of Rin and Haru, and he feels a heaviness in his heart and a jealousy in his gut. As Rin and Haru run a special swim school for kids from deprived backgrounds from around the country. And they are together. Forever. And Sousuke has nothing but his empty apartment and the memories of Makoto.

Sousuke washes up, looks in the mirror once he’s done, sees the man he’s become, his eyes darker seeming, his smile rare and he wonders what it would’ve been like with Makoto. Breakfast in bed, making love all night, tickle fights and movies. And it was all snatched away.

But he looks at his hand, the cut and then he cocks his head to see a mark on his neck, a mark from a kiss, a bite and Sousuke knows he will keep going, keep living as for one night, on the anniversary, he has Makoto. It may be a ghost of him but it was better than nothing.

And with a pain in his chest, he joins Rin and Haru for breakfast and tries to not wish away another year until he can have Makoto back with him. Where he belongs.

 


	2. Miles from Where You Are

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I added a second chapter after spending far too long to Set the Fire to the Third Bar by Snow Patrol (thanks to gaga-for-free) and thinking about this weeks episode and coach!Sousuke.  
> It just wouldn't leave me...

He’s watching the kids swim, his blue eyes narrowed, his gaze watching the trail of splashes from their feet. Sousuke shouts, tells them a few times what they are doing wrong and then instructs, encourages. The kids know he’s gruff, his shout is scary but they also know he’s a push over and can be bought with smiles and candy.

Sousuke stays late – he stays long after the kids have gone, long after Rin invites him for dinner, slouching, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, scratching at the back of his head. Haru is stood away at that point, waiting for Rin, his arms folded across his chest but his eyes curious. They both want him to come for dinner as they know what day it is and they worry. Always will. Even though he’s moved back to Iwatobi. Even though he’s left Tokyo and lonely nights in his cold apartment and even lonelier nights in clubs where he chases green eyes and brown hair – never finding anyone who compares. Even when he took them home. Even when he fucked them. 

He could go to his own home,  the small house he bought in the town, sit and watch some bad game show or something else equally mind-numbing until he falls asleep like he often does. But not tonight. Tonight he goes to the ocean. But first, he swims.

It hurts. He pushes himself too hard and his shoulder aches. He only made it through his one Olympics with physios and constant care from his coaches. And the gritty determination of swimming through the pain as he had nothing else. Nothing since Makoto.

So he swims until it hurts, swims until he is breathless and pulls him out of the pool, goes to the locker room, changes into his clothes – the damn blue hoodie – and leaves his bag, only grabbing the small knife.

Rin told him that he should come to dinner as they understood. That Haru lost his best friend. That Rin felt something drop out of his stomach when he thought about his life without Haru. But Sousuke had grunted at that. As yes, Haru and Makoto were like brothers but… it wasn’t what he’d had. And so he could sympathise but it did not mean he wanted to sit and eat grilled fish and vegetables and reminisce. He wanted to be alone.

He walks slowly towards the ocean, grabs a soda at a vending machine, and his phone buzzes and it’s Ren. The twins want him. Since he moved back to Iwatobi, Sousuke spends time with them, helps them swim and takes them to the park, let’s them climb all over him and wrestles and tickles them. He’s not a substitute for Makoto – he never can be. But he assumes the big brother role. And he likes it. Even though he sees the look in Makoto’s mother’s eyes as they play. As he stays for dinner. It’s the same thing Sousuke feels. Nothing replaces Makoto.

The Tachibana’s are going to a shrine. Lighting a candle. Something poetic and beautiful. They want Sousuke there. To join in. This is the first year he’s lived back in Iwatobi since… but he refuses. Sends the brief message back. Says he’ll see them tomorrow. Maybe he’ll take the twins for ice cream – Makoto would like him doing that.

He goes to the beach. It’s already late, dark and he walks towards the ocean briskly, his feet kicking up sand and he feels the air in his dark hair, still damp from the showers after his swim. This year he should tell someone – maybe Rin, maybe figure out if it’s all wishful thinking or real but he worries what anyone else will think. Its four years and he still is afraid of this anniversary as much as he wants it. Needs it.

The beach is usually deserted, usually completely quiet but then he looks, sees someone else on the beach and he sees the distinctive hair even in the dim light. Sousuke smiles. Figures he would do it one day. Maybe he was worried so instead of doing what he wants, what he needs to, he walks towards Rin.

 “You’re spying on me,” he says and Rin shrugs.

 “I worry.”

 Sousuke doesn’t say anything more, sits down on the sand and Rin follows.

 “You want to talk?” Rin offers.

 “Not really.”

 He doesn’t. But he smiles slightly when Rin offers him a soda, something to eat, and he takes it, silently, looking out to the ocean.

Rin doesn’t say any of the bullshit other people say – none of the “it’ll get better,” “time is a great healer” and the other clichés. Instead he just sits with him, his presence oddly reassuring but Sousuke breaks that.

“You should go home. To Haru.”

“He worries, too, you know…”

Sousuke doesn’t doubt it, that Haru does in his own Haru way. And that Haru probably understands – as he lost Makoto – best friends, more than that, brothers but Sousuke is selfish and wants to remember _his_ Makoto, not Haru’s.

“You going home?” Rin asks. “It’s late.”

Rin gets up, brushes the sand off his clothes, and Sousuke grabs his phone then… and realises it’s 12.14. And it’s no longer the day Makoto died. He feels something in his stomach clench, his heart beat too fast and his palms are sweaty and Rin clocks it.

“You okay?”

Sousuke nods. “I’ll go soon. Just need some time alone.”

He accepts that, nods, walks away and Sousuke tries not to run towards the ocean, worried that Rin will see. But then he just does, runs fast, draws out the stupid little knife and cuts at his palm, runs a line and makes it red, crushes his fist together and lets the blood flow. He realises he’s cut deeper, the pain more intense and he stands for some time and realises he could probably bleed forever and it would do no good as Makoto won’t come. He missed it.

Sousuke walks back home despondent. Doesn’t blame Rin. Maybe it’s better that he doesn’t get tonight – doesn’t get this moment, doesn’t get the memories that taste of salt and ocean water, and feel cool and damp. Maybe he can move on.

He won’t sleep, he knows that, so he sits on the couch, watches some movie, his eyes glazed over.  Wraps the hand in an old t-shirt, closes his eyes, falls asleep to the stutter of machinegun fire and then he feels the cold hand, the cool hands on his shoulder, the cool fingers underneath the thin t-shirt, pressing the ridges of his muscles and Sousuke doesn’t dare open his eyes as it feel so unreal. As he’s sat on his couch in a place Makoto never visited and he throws his head back as he feels kisses on his abs, small kisses, lips gently pressed against his skin and Sousuke reaches out a hand, threads it through silken hair, tries to not moan out or ruin the moment, only whispers Makoto.

Sousuke thought he’d missed it but he dares to open his eyes and he sees him – another year, another year where Sousuke is older and Makoto is not – and Makoto smiles and Sousuke feels his own lips lift, a smile, and he surrenders to the feel of lips and fingers and the warm heat.

When it’s done, Makoto crawls up into his lap and Sousuke runs his hands down the planes of his back, runs his fingertips over the skin.

“I didn’t think you’d come… thought I’d missed it,” Sousuke murmurs.

Makoto kisses him. And it tastes of both of them and Sousuke holds on tight then, digs fingernails into hips and grabs at hair. He never wants to let go. Wants this forever. Even though he should.

He can’t move on when he chases a shadow, a ghost, something that just shouldn’t be.

But instead of moving on, Sousuke kisses fiercely, holds on with all his strength, and whispers “I love you” and “I miss you” over lips and skin… the rest of the night is spent in bed. Not rushed. Not covered in sand and Sousuke touches his favourite spots – the curve of Makoto’s hip, the point between shoulder blades – he worships every part he can, delights in those noises Makoto makes and when they are tired, spent, they curl up around each other and Sousuke sleeps.

Sleeps soundly. Like the dead. And when he wakes Makoto is gone.

It feels cold when he arrives at the Tachibana’s house, takes Ren and Ran for ice cream, walks with them, them hanging onto him even though they are getting older. And when he smiles at them, plays with them, he wonders whether he needs to let go of his yearly night with Makoto. But as he sees the siblings he left behind, he knows he’s not ready. Not yet.


	3. Memories of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is now fully complete. I wanted a kinda resolution to this even if it's not exactly "happy"!

“You look beautiful,” Sousuke tells her, whispering it quietly into her ear over the sound of the wedding band.

She flicks her eyes up to meet Sousuke’s, smiles and then she leans into his broad chest more, resting her head on his shoulder.

He’s a good dance partner for Ran as she got tall, maybe it was the Tachibana genes at both twins were, Sousuke’s eyes casting towards Ren who was dancing with some elderly relative, amusing them with some joke or something. He supposes she wanted to dance with her big brother on her wedding day – the brother who’s now been gone for over ten years. But Sousuke will do.

He doesn’t spend time with the Tachibana family like he used to. The twins both are grown up – careers and college and marriages. And he supposes for Makoto’s parents he’s a reminder of the son they lost and so there’s no longer the invites for dinner, no longer the days he takes the twins out for ice cream and to the park. But today he’s back with them, dancing with Ran, levelling threatening eyes at her new husband at times so that he knows – _if_ he hurts her, Sousuke will do whatever is necessary. He wonders how protective Makoto would be and he knows he wasn’t a violent guy but if someone hurt his siblings… Sousuke was sure he would’ve been a sight to see.

He asks Ran if she’s happy as they dance and she nods, her eyes full of emotion from the day and she reaches up, touches Sousuke’s cheek.

“Are you?”

Sousuke nods even through the lump in his throat as happy… happy isn’t exactly what he is. Yet he’s content, found peace, moved on somewhat. Not over Makoto. Never but… he’s okay. But Ran doesn’t need to know that. So he only gives her a reassuring smile as he looks over to see Rin and Haru refusing to dance despite attempts to make them and Ran turns to see where Sousuke’s eyes look and she smiles.

“I think I need to make Haru dance.”

And with an elegant twirl, her dress shimmering, she walks over and cajoles Haru into dancing, Sousuke amused to watch Haru’s reluctance being ignored, Rin smirking at the sight. He walks over and joins Rin at the side of the dance floor who is trying not to laugh at Ran’s enthusiasm and Haru’s awkwardness.

“You okay?” Rin asks and Sousuke wonders if he’d got something written across his forehead that he’s not.

He grunts and nods. “Fine.”

Rin shoves his hands in his suit pants pocket, looks up and rocks back on his heels. “I mean, I get why… the date is no longer sad, right? They replace the memory with something good.”

Sousuke doesn’t answer, watches Ran clearly teasing Haru, smiling at him and maybe he does understand why she picked the anniversary of Makoto’s death for her wedding day. That it erases some of the hurt, erases some of the family pain and balances things out. That Ran’s day – Western inspired like so many girls – was there to make something good happen on a day so full of sadness. But Sousuke can’t see past that – maybe he never will and he knows he should stay longer, maybe talk to Makoto’s parents as it’s been a while but he’s leaving, walking out, saying his goodbye to Rin and walking away.

The night has that cool breeze on the air and it feels pleasant, Sousuke walking briskly towards the ocean, loosening his tie as he goes. It’s been another year and he still thinks about Makoto. He tries dating, stupid dates with guys and girls, and he tries to find people who are not green eyed, not brown haired as he’s sick of following Makoto’s shadow and finding them unable to compare. So he tries to find someone different. It doesn’t work.

He tries to throw himself into work, he loves the swim school and it’s expanded and Sousuke is training a kid he’s sure will make the Olympics. A kid that might take him with him, might want Sousuke to coach him and Sousuke hopes he does. He wonders what it will feel like to be back in the Olympic venues under those bright lights and he focuses on that. Or he tries to.

But Makoto always floods back. He dreams about him still. He knows he probably shouldn’t as Makoto’s forever stuck in his head as the nineteen year old he was when he died and Sousuke’s thirty. But his subconscious always brings him back, brings him back to the lying in bed together, to Makoto’s head on his heart, buried in blankets and holding onto one another. It brings him back to that first kiss, the brush of lips, Makoto’s hand buried in his hair. It takes him back to the first time they made love, stuttering and starting, tentative and unsure, Makoto underneath him, his hair stuck to his forehead, his eyes glazed and Sousuke scared to hurt him.

He didn’t hurt him. And it wasn’t the best sex they ever had – nowhere near – but it had been perfect. And Sousuke remembers all those moments as he walks towards the sea.

He stops at the beach, walks towards the waves, sits down on the sand. This night, he has no blade, nothing to cut himself, nothing to make the blood flow and he feels the gnawing feeling in his stomach. He hopes, he wishes, he _wants_ the night. He wants Makoto tasting of salt water, feeling his slick skin, his hands sliding over every inch of wet supple skin but Sousuke knows he can’t.

Not this time. Not anymore.

It’s been over ten years since Makoto died and Sousuke can’t let him go, he never will as he runs his fingers over his palm, the scars from some years deeper than other’s, but he knows he can no longer do this.

Instead of a blade, Sousuke brings out a small hip flash, toasts Makoto and talks soft and low, talks to no one, to empty air. He knows, logically, Makoto is as far away from here as he is when he is at home but somehow he feels closer here. Closer near those waves that took his life, that brought him to shore, cold and blue.

He tells Makoto things – laughs at his own stories sometimes. Tells him how he looked after Ran and Ren or tried to and how they’ve grown up smart and tall and so many other things. Tells Makoto how Ran looked today with lilies in her hair. Tells him how he tried to threaten the guy she was marrying. He talks about the swim school, talks about the kids he loves to teach, the talent and he tells Makoto about Rin and more importantly, Haru. How his best friend is. How he’s happy. How he’s in love and how he still misses him.

He doesn’t say much about Makoto’s parents. He says how he used to go over for dinner and how there was always a plate for him at first. At first when he moved back to Iwatobi. He doesn’t say much more.

He sighs against the cool breeze, feels the lump in his throat as he’s talked about things, other people and not _him._ Not how Sousuke feels. And he takes one more drink from the hip flash, gets up and walks towards the waves.

“I miss you,” he says, the waves lapping around his expensive dress shoes, “but I’m not going to do this anymore. I can’t have the shadow… the ghost…”

Sousuke pauses, shakes his head, laughs under his breath. It’s a harsh bitter sound and maybe it turns into a cry. Maybe it doesn’t. Sousuke won’t admit if there’s tears in his eyes.

“I just want the memories. The real ones.”

He wants the memories – the swimming together, the kisses, the wrestling the twins, the looks shared, the touches, the tickle fights, the movie nights, the making love… not this. Not anymore.

“Love you,” he murmurs but instead of the cut, the blood, the waves, Sousuke walks home, whistling some love song that the wedding band was playing.

Sousuke won’t ever be over Makoto. And he doesn’t want to be. But he wants to remember him as he should – warm and real and smiling and _his._ Not the ghost.


End file.
